Chapter 13 - Dragon and the Wolves

Blackwood doors of the First Keep burst open with a sound like breaking bones. Ancient hinges shrieked their protest as winter wind howled through the great hall, snuffing half the wall sconces in its fury. The surviving torches guttered and danced, casting writhing shadows across tapestries that bore the likeness of dragons dead these three centuries past. Their woven eyes seemed to follow the living, judging them for what they had become.

Lord Edwinn Leonhart stood before the great hearth, pale flames wreathing his shoulders like a mockery of the fire his forebears once commanded. The ancestral blade hung above the mantel, its runes cold and lifeless as a corpse's eyes. Only the sword's silence spoke louder than his rage.

Near the tall window, Lyra pressed one palm against glass so cold it burned. Her other hand curved protectively over the swell of her belly. Her breath fogged the pane, blurring the view of snow-laden gardens where she had first seen Aeron nine years past. A boy of thirteen then, grey eyes bright with laughter as he sparred with her brother Edward. The memory felt distant as summer in this endless winter.

"Lyra!" Her father's voice cracked like a whip through the chamber. The iron chandelier above trembled at the sound. "Tell me it is not true. Tell me you do not carry that bastard's whelp in your belly."

She flinched but did not turn. Her mother's bracelet pressed warm against her wrist despite the cold, a weight of duty and promise. The same duties she had cast aside for love. The same promises she had broken in passion's name.

"I-It is true, Father." Her voice shook like flame in the wind yet held its ground. "I carry your grandchild."

Lord Edwinn's face twisted until noble features became something bestial. Veins bulged black along his throat like serpents beneath skin. His fists clenched until knuckles cracked, and the flames about him surged higher, though even in his fury they barely reached past his shoulders.

"While I bled on the borderlands hunting rebel scum," he snarled, voice rising to a roar that shook dust from the rafters, "you were here, spreading your legs for that peasant knight who should be protecting you. The same dog I raised from nothing, gave sword and purpose. This is how he repays my kindness? By defiling my daughter’s innocence and corrupting our blood?"

His eyes swept the hall like a hunting hawk seeking prey. "Where is he? Where is that worthless dog?"

The words tore from his throat and echoed off stone walls: "AERON! AERON! Show yourself, you bastard-born cunt!"

Lyra's voice cracked as she fought to find strength. "Father, please. He wronged no one. This was my choice. I love him truly."

Each word felt like swallowing broken glass, but she forced them past her lips. "I carry Aeron's child by my own will."

"You have damned us all." Spittle flew from his lips. "We are dragons, girl. Old blood flows in our veins, deeper and truer than any of the great houses can claim. We are the last keepers of the flame eternal."

His voice trembled with ancestral pride. "Once we commanded the great wyrms themselves. Houses trembled at the Leonhart name. Yet you cast it all away for some peasant knight who cannot light a candle without flint and steel? This bastard spawn will stain our legacy."

The words struck her like physical blows, but her mother's teachings rose unbidden to mind. Words from A Way of Dragon, the old text passed down in her family: Keep thy soul's truth steadfast, though the wyrm's shadow darken thy path.

She straightened her spine and faced the dragon before her. "Dragons abandoned us centuries ago, Father. They fled beyond the known world, leaving us with nothing save arrogance and dying flames. What has that blood brought me but pain and grief? You know well what the nobles call me behind closed doors: a dragon with no wings, fit only to breed heirs for their royal pleasures. For them, I am nothing more than a tavern wench wrapped in silk and titles."

Her voice grew stronger. "But Aeron loves me for what I am, not for the blood I carry. When my flames sputtered and died, he did not sneer as the court lords did. When even our kin laughed behind my back, he stood beside me. He showed me magic could flow through wands as well as blood. He taught me there was no shame in..."

"Shame?" Edwinn barked laughter that held no mirth. "You speak to me of shame? The nobles already whisper of our weakening blood. When they learn you carry a bastard..."

Each step toward her made ancient floorboards groan beneath threadbare carpets. "The same vipers who mocked your weak flames will strike without mercy."

"Then let them come," she whispered, hand pressed firm over her belly. "Our ancestors did not tame dragons through cruelty as other bloodlines did. The books Elyndra left speak of pacts, of..."

"Enough!" The word cracked like breaking stone. "That bastard thing is no blood of mine. I have decided. I will end this disgrace before it ruins us all. Better you suffer now than watch it grow into a mockery of our house."

Blood drained from Lyra's face. Her heart hammered like a caged bird as she stepped back, both hands clutching her swollen belly. "No, Father! Please!"

The air grew thick with the taste of brewing magic, old and wild. The very stones seemed to hold their breath.

Then a voice cut through the suffocating silence. Cold as winter steel. Ancient as stone. Final as death itself.

"Step away from her."

Valeria emerged from the shadow like mist given form. The air grew heavy, tasting of lightning and primordial stone. Torchlight caught her eyes, and for a heartbeat they flickered with something that was not human.

"You dare?" Edwinn turned his fury upon her, flames dancing higher. "You dare interfere, servant?"

"You speak of old blood?" Her laugh held no warmth, only the cold amusement of mountains watching mortals scurry below. "How many generations removed are you from the ancestor who struck his pact with flame? Three hundred years of thinning blood, and still you cling to faded glories like a drowning man clutches driftwood."

The ancestral sword's runes began to glow. First dull red, then brighter, casting strange shadows that seemed to move independently of the light. The tapestries rippled, though no wind stirred them.

Edwinn's lips peeled back from his teeth. "Lecture me not on bloodlines, wench. We are true dragons. We carry ancient fire within us..."

"Ancient fire?" Valeria's whisper somehow filled the entire hall. "You call those sparks about you fire?"

She gestured at his flames, which flickered and shrank like whipped dogs. "You know nothing of true flame. Of the eternal fires that forged the world. The flames of the Great Dragon, mount of Lord Zeroth himself."

The air pulsed with power. The ancestral sword's runes blazed crimson, bathing the hall in bloody light. The metal began to sing, a high keen that set teeth on edge and made the stones themselves tremble.

"You are nothing but a servant," Edwinn spat, though uncertainty crept into his voice like poison into wine. "Common filth my fool daughter brought to..."

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

"Filth?" The word rolled through the chamber like distant thunder before the storm breaks. "It has been long since any dared call me that. Edwinn Leonhart, do you truly believe your blood runs nobler than mine?"

The air around her shimmered with power that made reality itself seem uncertain. Her golden hair caught the rune-light and became living flame. Her pale eyes blazed molten gold. Horns curved from her brow, and scales rippled across her skin like liquid metal in firelight.

"By the old gods..." Edwinn stumbled backward.

Old power radiated from her form, filling the hall with light from the world's youth. Shadows danced on walls, shapes that spoke of truths older than human memory. The castle's very foundations trembled beneath the weight of her revealed nature.

Edwinn fell to his knees, the proud lord reduced to a trembling child before power beyond his comprehension. "What... what are you?"

"Drekon." The word thundered with harmonics no human throat should produce. "My people have walked this world when your kind still cowered in caves, afraid of their own shadows. We taught the first words of power. The dragons you prize so highly? They are our lesser kin, bound to us by ties you cannot fathom. We brought them to your people before your bloodline drew its first breath. Do you think you are the only blood with ties to the Flame Dragon? You are but one thread in a tapestry vast beyond your imagining."

"Your pride blinds you to truth," she continued, each word heavy with the weight of ages. "The child she carries... his blood runs truer than yours ever did. Change comes whether you will it or not. And his birth serves a purpose greater than your petty concerns. It's for the greater good of all who draw breath."

Lyra watched her father, this towering force who had shaped her world, kneel before true power. His flames had died entirely, leaving only the sword's crimson glow and Valeria's otherworldly radiance.

"Father." Lyra stepped forward, voice shaking but determined. "I never meant to bring shame upon you or our house. You have loved and protected me even when my flames proved weak as candlelight. But this child..."

She touched her belly with gentle reverence. "He deserves life. If punishment must fall, let it fall on me alone."

Something cracked in Edwinn's expression. Fury drained away like water from a broken cup, leaving raw vulnerability in its wake. "My daughter... the Valars... they will..."

"Then stand with her," Valeria commanded, her form beginning to shift back toward normal. "Not against her. Old magic returns to this world, bringing changes you cannot imagine. This child may prove more vital than any of us know."

The sword's runes dimmed slowly like coals cooling in a dead hearth. Outside, snow continued falling on a world unchanged, but within these walls, nothing would ever be quite the same.

Valeria turned toward the shadows, pausing at the threshold. Small arcs of power still danced between her fingers like tame lightning. "Remember this, Edwinn Leonhart. This child's path, whether toward salvation or ruin, begins with the choice you make this day."

She melted into darkness, leaving father and daughter in the quiet aftermath of revelation. The portraits of their ancestors seemed smaller now, less significant in the face of true power. And somewhere beyond the mountains, carried on winter wind, a sound echoed that might have been thunder.

Or perhaps something far older stirring in its sleep.

----------------------------------------

Night hung thick as grave shrouds over the castle gardens. Lyra stood at her chamber window in the same castle where a month past, her father's flames had threatened to consume everything, before understanding replaced his rage like dawn following the darkest night. Silver moonlight painted the gardens below while torch-bearing guards wandered their patrols, hunting shadows that might hold secrets.

The Valar court had become poison seeping into every corner of her existence. Behind practiced smiles, they whispered her new title with venom-sweet delight: dragon whore. The promised bride of Prince Ishar, now heavy with bastard seed that would stain both bloodlines. Each dawn brought fresh torments wrapped in silk courtesy, threats disguised as gentle counsel for House Leonhart's crumbling honor.

Through it all, her father had stood as her unwavering shield. His flames might have dimmed to guttering candles, but they burned with fierce devotion as he waged war in gilded council chambers and shadow-laden alcoves. She watched him age before her eyes, ember hair silvering with each battle fought on her behalf, each political skirmish carving new lines into weathered features.

Her hand drifted to the curve of her swollen belly, fingers tracing gentle stirrings within. The nobles sneered at the peasant blood growing in her womb, blind to the truth pulsing beneath her skin. They named it tainted, but Lyra suspected it might be the purest flame of all.

Soft footsteps echoed behind her. Valeria stepped into moonlight, her golden hair, usually vibrant as summer wheat, seemed dulled by centuries of heartache, yet quiet strength moved in every gesture.

"Royal guards have doubled their patrols," Valeria said softly. "They grow bolder with each passing day. Soon, not even your father's influence will shield you from their hunger. The time has come."

They embraced without words. The contact anchored them both, Lyra pressing her forehead into Valeria's shoulder. This same being had stood between her and paternal wrath, revealing powers that could cow the entire royal court, yet chose to remain hidden for reasons Lyra was beginning to understand.

"I cannot bear to leave him." Lyra's whisper barely stirred the air between them. Her mother's bracelet felt heavier now, a reminder of marriage contracts shattered and noble duties forsaken for mortal love. "Father has lost so much fighting for me. If only Edward were here..."

Valeria's hand cupped Lyra's cheek with touch as light as morning mist yet warm as hearthfire. "Your father found something greater than pride that day. He discovered the strength to love beyond blood and status. But if you remain..."

Her eyes flickered toward the window where another patrol passed. "These beasts will not rest until they have their prey. They will tear your house apart stone by stone."

The words settled over her like chains. She glanced down at her belly where the child stirred, as if sensing destiny's weight upon them both. In the distance, guards chattered like carrion birds over fresh meat.

"What of you?" Lyra asked, voice catching. "They know you helped us. They will..."

Valeria's smile carried echoes of ages past. "I have survived worse than petty kings who mistake their power for godhood. Questions demand answers, for myself and for one whose heart beats in rhythm with mine for him. I will find my way back to him. This is but one chapter in a tale that will be written in blood before the final page is turned."

She knelt gently, placing a kiss upon Lyra's belly. "We shall meet again, my love," she whispered with ageless, quiet affection.

The room seemed to hold its breath. Valeria rose, drawing something from her cloak's depths. She held out a delicate amulet, its chain fine as spider silk, the red stone at its heart glimmering like captured flame.

"It’s more than a mere keepsake," she said. "It carries part of my essence, and... something for him when the time comes. Should you need me, no matter where fate carries me, I will hear your call. But like all magic, it is fragile. Use it only when no other choice remains."

Lyra felt cool metal in her palm, warm power pulsing against skin. "I will protect him." She thought of her father's face, lined with new worries. "And when the time comes, we will find you."

Valeria smiled, though ancient sorrow laced the expression. "Love will guide you through the darkness ahead. It is a bond older than my kind, more powerful than any magic. Serelith herself preserves such bonds across time and distance."

Horns blew in the distance, signaling the changing of the guard. Time fled like water through cupped hands. Valeria stepped back, golden hair shimmering into view one final time, casting patterns of light that danced like memories of freedom lost.

"Farewell, Lyra." Her voice carried harmonics that seemed to mourn all that was being sacrificed.

Lyra watched her dissolve into shadows wrought by old magic, leaving the chamber impossibly cold. But then Aeron stepped from his hiding place, grey eyes steady in darkness, black hair catching moonlight like obsidian. His rough hands, strong from years of wielding steel, reached for her with the same certainty that had first given her courage to defy fate itself.

"Are you ready?" he asked, quiet strength evident in every word.

Lyra nodded as she removed the bracelet. Her fingers trembled as she worked the clasp, her mother's final gift sliding free from her wrist like a severed bond. The metal felt cold now, lifeless without the warmth of duty and promise that had once sustained her. She set it gently on the windowsill.

"We must leave now." Distant marching feet echoed off stone walls. "They will not stop until they have him. And us."

Aeron wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her brow. "We will protect him. No matter the cost."

She buried her face against his broad chest, drawing strength from his presence. The future remained shrouded in mist and shadow, but one truth burned clear as flame: they would face whatever came together.

Or die in the attempt.